


Cool Tones

by Cassidae



Series: Color By Number [2]
Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Meetings, Gen, Platonic Soulmates, Some angst, bc it's sammy we're talking about here, bisexual ben arnold, he's bi in every work i do and i'm not sorry, rated for light swearing, they're platonic soulmates in every universe but in this one it's literal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 14:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16160654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassidae/pseuds/Cassidae
Summary: Cool Tones:a phrase used to describe any color that is calm or soothing in nature. They are not overpowering and tend to recede in space. For this reason, cool colors typically make a space seem larger. Examples include green, blue and violet.It’s spring, when he meets Ben. Ever since Jack vanished, it’s felt like the universe is telling him it’s time to move on to his other Soulmate; that the time of Jack and all the warmth he brought into Sammy’s life is gone, and he’ll be just as happy and more complete with the next person. Sammy calls bullshit on that, cosmic forces be damned.[ AU where you see in black and white until you meet your Soulmate and then you see in full color. Or, at least you should. ]





	Cool Tones

**Author's Note:**

> **Note:** Reading ["Warm Tones"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16156784) before this is recommended, though not strictly necessary. I did my best to write this as a stand-alone.

It’s spring, when he meets Ben.

The season is one of birth and renewal. The cold and barren make way for warmth and growth, life-giving rain replaces freezing snow, and the cycle begins anew. It’s a fresh start.

King Falls is the fresh start Sammy never wanted, the second chance he’d rather not have.

He and Jack had already started over, moved to a big city and worked a big radio show and bought a big house. They ran away to make it big, and they made it, but now Sammy feels like he’s back at square one. Back when he was alone, when he was nothing, and when the world was only grey.

Except that last part is only partially true.

Jack is gone but he’s still _somewhere,_ and the colors he can still see prove that. All the reds, yellows, oranges, and every shade in between are still there. But that feels like it matters a lot less when the town sits in a forest of evergreens, which will stay resolutely grey all year ‘round for him. And that’s for the best, he thinks, if he can’t… do what he came to do by fall. It’ll be one less painful reminder.

He’ll look for Jack until the last drop of color bleeds out from the world, or his heart. Whichever comes first.

It had always felt improbable, that Sammy of all people would have more than one person who would love him enough that destiny tied them together. He knows he’s not worth that. But ever since Jack vanished, it’s felt like the universe is telling him it’s time to move on to his other Soulmate; that the time of Jack and all the warmth he brought into Sammy’s life is gone, and he’ll be just as happy but more complete with the next person.

Sammy calls bullshit on that, cosmic forces be damned. 

(That is, for a fact, not what the universe is telling him, though Sammy’s never been the greatest listener when it comes to himself.

But he will have help, if he can only bring himself to ask for it. Easier said than done, of course.)

********

 

Sammy barely arrives at the station on time. It’s just one more aspect of his life that’s difficult without Jack – he’d never thought he’d miss his home being littered with post-it notes so much, all the spots of bright orange and pink penned with reminders or the random note. They helped string Jack’s chaotic thoughts together and made sure that he and Sammy were always where they needed to be. Without that, he’s fallen back into his old habits and left alone with his own thoughts. It’s not an ideal situation. 

The little shack of a building he finds, with a little help from the Deputy, doesn’t exactly _look_ like where he needs to be, but the huge radio tower pretty much confirms it. Sammy almost turns and bolts when the front door creaks open like something out of a haunted house, but the rustling he hears in the bushes outside is even more of an incentive to go the other way. He quickly steps in and shuts the door, trying to reassure himself that that was probably a deer and not a bear. They have bears in the mountains, right? He should probably find a store that sells bear repellent.

Sammy waits a moment, trying to calm his racing heart and ease his breathing. He doesn’t know whether or not to be thankful that his rushed entrance hasn’t summoned anyone. No Merv, who he’s only spoken with over email, and no Ben, who he’s told is supposed to be his producer.

Having someone else sitting in that chair is going to take some getting used to.

He waits another minute, but no one appears to welcome him or guide him to where he should be. Telling himself that he’s a man walking into his workplace and not a lost child in the grocery store, he starts to make his cautious down the hall. The building didn’t look _that_ big from the outside – how hard can it be to find someone?

He finds a door with a blinking red On Air sign over it, the first sign of activity apart from the cars in the lot. It’s probably whatever show is on before his slot is still running, so he opts not to disturb them.

Next, there’s a door that leads to what looks like a breakroom, complete with a ratty couch covered in mismatched pillows and an ancient coffee maker. But still not a soul in sight.

The next he mistakes for a broom closet at first, but there’s a chair and an itty-bitty desk wedged in between the cleaning supplies, along with miscellaneous other things that don’t look like they belong to a janitor. It, too, is empty of life.

Between the dust and the fact he’s yet to see a single face so far, he’s beginning to wonder if the cars out front aren’t just abandoned. He’s never been one for scary movies, but he’s afraid he might have just walked into one.

Finally, he finds what looks like an _actual_ office, albeit a fairly small one, but anything looks more spacious than that closet. It’s mostly empty aside from the furniture, a few boxes, and a corkboard on the far wall that has a line of strung-together letters that read “WELCOME” pinned to it. It makes him crack a little smile. Considering the sign is one of the few things not covered in cobwebs, he assumes that the message, and this space, is meant for him.

He takes all of two steps inside when a voice from behind nearly scares the daylights out of him.

_“Hey,_ that’s for- Oh, wait, are you the new guy? I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t even hear you come in!” The voice stammers, going from accusing to bashful in half a second.

“No harm done,” Sammy says smoothly, thankful he only tensed instead of shrieking this time. He’s weirdly nervous about making a good first impression; he’s never been great with people, that was always Jack.

He does his best to channel that same social grace, readying a polite smile before he turns to look at the person who spoke. But a second later, he nearly shrieks anyway.

It’s not immediately noticeable. The man he sees is at least a head shorter than him, and mostly in varying shades of brown from his eyes to his skin to his hair. He’s wearing a dark T-shirt with a “King Falls AM” logo on it and holding a matching coffee mug, which doesn’t smell like it’s holding coffee at all.

It’s when that logo changes into two new colors he’s never seen before and the man staring at him drops his mug on the carpeted floor that he realizes what’s happening.

Again.

Sammy wishes he’d run back to his car when he had the chance. Or, better yet, he’d never come to King Falls at all.

_“Oh my god,”_ The man whispers, barely loud enough to hear. He looks Sammy up and down, then cranes his neck to look around, giving no sign he’s even noticed that his drink is currently staining the carpet. Well, more stained than it already was.

Sammy’s mouth is dry and his heart is racing again and his mind is on a continuous loop of _‘Why? Why here? Why now? Why **you**?’_ but he’s still determined not to panic. This will not be a repeat of before, when he was struck dumb by the sheer wonderment that is a Jack Wright bathed in warm light. He will be in control of himself this time. This is not like Jack. This is not some sort of do-over.

He just has to keep telling himself that.

Sammy reminds himself that _this is whatever you want it to mean._ And right now, the part of him that’s still angry and hurt and spiteful wants it to mean nothing at all. But he buries that part down, deep down, for now. He’s good at doing that.

He looks the man over – young, decked out in merch, reeks of coffee and just a little ammonia – and takes a guess. “Are you Ben?” The man’s attention snaps back to him immediately, but he takes a second to process the question before he nods. “Well, Ben, it’s nice to meet you and all, but you seem to have spilled your drink,” He says, pointing downwards for good measure.

The comment successfully shakes Ben out of it. He’s quicker to come back to reality than Sammy was. _“Shit._ I-I’m so sorry, oh my god, I’m _so_ stupid. I’ll be right back! Let me just-just run to my office,” He says in a rush, then turns and bolts back down the hall.

Once he’s gone, Sammy closes his eyes and lets out a long, shaky breath. Then he breathes in, slow and deep. Exhales. Repeats. It’s not working very well, he can still feel his heart against his ribs and he’s a little lightheaded and already starting to sweat a little, but it works _enough_ that he doesn’t have a full-blown attack. He thinks he manages to look mostly put-together by the time Ben returns.

Ben, on the other hand, is still a mess, though a different kind than Sammy. He’s still babbling apologies as he soaks up the mess with a rag and picks up the now-cracked mug from the floor.

“Here, I’ll-I’ll put this away, then we can talk – there’s still time before the show, right? Yeah, there’s plenty of time. We’ll talk and – oh, this is your office, by the way! But I, well, guess you already knew that since you were… just in there. And, again, I’m _so_ sorry that I didn’t recognize you but Merv didn’t really tell me a lot about you except that you’re from some big city and you’re an actual _journalist!”_ Ben gets a wide-eyed, starry look on his face that Sammy doesn’t ever remember making, even when he met big names in radio. And Ben’s doesn’t seem to have even heard of ‘Shotgun Sammy’.

Oh. That’s why Ben’s being so nice to him.

And he’s still talking. “I was already so excited to work with you but now it turns out you’re _my Soul-”_

Sammy quickly puts a hand on his shoulder before he can finish and, thankfully, it cuts Ben off, though he’s still looking up at him like he’s something amazing. The heavy churning in his stomach gets even worse. He takes another deep breath.

“Get yourself a fresh cup, then we’ll talk,” Sammy tells him as calmly as possible. Ben takes his words to heart and immediately runs off again. He wonders if it was a mistake to tell him to get more caffeine.

Feeling like he just made it through a whirlwind, Sammy turns back to his new office and settles into the seat behind the desk. It’s surprisingly cushy and only a little squeaky and overall more comfortable than the aged look made him expect. He’s swiveling back and forth in it in place of pacing when Ben returns, this time with two mugs and a much more nervous expression.

“H-here, I didn’t know how you took it so, I made my best guess,” He says as he sets one mug on the desk and seats himself in the rickety-looking chair across from it. He’s still cradling his own damaged cup, which apparently didn’t crack enough to be unusable. Sammy looks at the pale, jagged line and reminds himself that he doesn’t believe in omens.

Sammy takes the offered cup in hand just to have something warm to hold but doesn’t actually take a sip. There’s a reason he hadn’t asked Ben to get him a cup as well, besides the fried-brain look; whatever he added to it, there’s no way it was enough sugar.

“S-so you’re Samuel, right? Samuel Stevens?” Ben asks. Sammy does his best not to cringe, but maybe he doesn’t do quite good enough. “Do… do you go by Sam, or anything?”

“Sammy,” He says immediately. “Just call me Sammy.”

“O-ok, Sammy,” Ben says, a pleased little smile on his face, like he feels privileged to use the nickname. “So, you…” He starts, then stops, just staring at Sammy for a beat. But before he can get uncomfortable enough to break the silence himself, Ben blurts “You’re _really_ pretty. Like, I knew I’d be attracted to my SM and all, but…”

Sammy feels himself blush to the tips of his ears and grips the cup a little tighter. He’s heard this from Jack plenty of times, sure, but this is already moving toward the very _last_ place he wants it to go. “Woah, okay, slow down there,” He cautions. “I mean, thank you, but I think you have the wrong idea.” He doesn’t think _‘But what if we’re supposed to be?’,_ he doesn’t think _‘But what if I’m crushing his dreams and ruining his life?’_

He doesn’t let himself think any of that. Maybe it’s unfair to Ben, but he already made up his mind long ago. Jack will forever be the only person who fits in his life that way. He made himself Sammy’s home, Sammy’s heart, and as long as he’s gone those won’t be open to anyone else.

Ben’s face crumples and Sammy feels like _such_ a jerk, but… he just can’t. “But- You said- Don’t you _see_ it?” Ben asks, edging on desperate and a leaning little forward in his seat.

“Tell me what _you_ see,” Sammy counters, keeping his tone patient. He’s still holding out some sliver of hope because there’s a chance, albeit slim, that there’s still someone else that is meant to make Ben happy like Sammy can’t. That maybe he’s like Sammy in that way.

Ben seems confused by the question at first, but ultimately decides to entertain him. “I see… the station logo,” He starts, nodding to his mug. “I see your shirt and your jeans – oh, those are bluejeans, right? That’s blue!” He exclaims, with almost childish glee.

“I guess so,” Sammy answers, looking down at himself for the first time. The majority of his wardrobe is all warm colors, since he could actually _see_ them, but there’s the odd shirt or sweater labeled as blue that Jack insisted looked good on him. Seeing it on himself now, Sammy still has no idea if he’s right.

“But… you’re still mostly grey?” Ben continues, like he’s just noticed it. “Your face and your hair and everything is still… not colorful? I-I don’t know how that’s possible,” He adds, somehow managing to make himself look even smaller. He’s confused and worried, but at least he’s not panicking.

Sammy feels relief sweep through him. He can deal with this. “You have another SM besides me,” He explains, “So you only got some colors instead of all of them.”

“Oh. What?” Ben asks, looking at Sammy like he’s just grown another head.

Sammy’s having a very bad case of déjà-vu right now. He explains it the same way Jack did all those years ago; about romantic and platonic SMs, the reasons someone might get more than one, all the possible combinations, and how that translates to only seeing a few colors right now.

It comes back to him easily, almost word for word. Everything about their first meeting is still seared into his mind and this, the talk that changed his life and explained his vision and fate defined by the universe, is no different. It intensifies the heartache a little more, but it’s necessary to help Ben understand.

“Oh,” Ben repeats after he’s finished. The confusion and worry has cleared up – he’s obviously taking this in a lot easier than Sammy had. “Yeah, that makes sense, actually. Wait, let me look something up,” He adds, then pulls out his phone and starts typing much faster than Sammy’s ever been able to.

“Okay,” Ben says after a few seconds. “So I can see shades blue, green, and purple, basically. That sound about right for you, too?” He asks, leaning forward and turning the screen so that Sammy can see. It’s just a simple search for labeled colors, and now Sammy can see the full spectrum. His eyes linger on the new ones, the ones that Ben can see now, before looking back up.

“I can see all of them,” Sammy answers honestly. It may be the only time he can in the ensuing conversation.

“You do?” Ben asks, right back at confused again.

Sammy swallows, but it’s useless when his mouth has gone dry again. He forces the lie out anyways. “Guess I only have one SM,” He says, then shrugs as indifferently as he can manage.

“But… you don’t think we’re romantic?” Ben questions. “You said I had the ‘wrong idea’.”

“Listen, Ben, I have absolutely _no_ problem if you like guys,” Sammy assures. Somehow, someway, there’s still plenty of people out there that do. People that think the only ‘natural’ SM bond is between a man and a woman, that anyone who says differently is just mistaking a platonic SM or outright _lying_ about who made them see color. A bond is something that’s almost impossible to prove, scientifically, and there’s no shortage of people in the world who take advantage of that.

Sammy knows all this very well, has internalized that shit for years, and it’s why he says what he does next.

“It’s just that I don’t,” He lies, because it’s the easier thing, because he can’t afford to have that get out to the rest of the town, because he can’t explain about Jack, because he doesn’t need another Jack. 

“Ah. So, definitely platonic, then.” Ben says, apparently accepting the lie easily. Sammy feels horrible and relieved in equal measure. It leans more toward horrible when Ben says, with a smile that’s big and bright, “You know, I’ve always wanted a brother.”

Something in Sammy’s throat catches. Before Jack and Lily, he hadn’t had _anyone._ No parents willing to talk to him, no real friends, no one in his hometown that would even bother remembering him. Now here he is, in a place he hadn’t known existed a year ago, facing a complete stranger who’s offering _brotherhood_ to him bare minutes after they’ve met.

Ben trusts too easily, he decides. Hopefully Ben doesn’t come to regret this choice too much. Sammy thinks he probably will.

He clears his throat as quietly as he can before replying with a truth – he owes him that much. “Me too,” He says quietly.

He dearly hopes Ben finds his other SM soon, so he can forget about Sammy and not be shackled by this arbitrary obligation they’re stuck with. Just because the universe says they’re good for each other doesn’t mean they are.

Ben’s phone chimes, breaking the silence and making them both startle. “Shit, the show’s starting in five,” Ben says, jumping up from his seat. He drains the rest of his mug in one go, though it has to be lukewarm by now. Sammy stands as well, though he leaves his untouched on the desk.

“Come on, I’ll show you to the studio,” Ben says, still smiling too-brightly at him. “I hope you’re ready for your first show! I know it’s gonna be great,” He adds, apparently sensing Sammy’s sudden nerves.

Sammy usually has to hype himself up for a show regardless, but this time is distinctly different. Because he can’t be Shotgun Sammy anymore. It was hard enough to be that guy when it was just for getting popular, but here he has no real incentive to do it here. But if he’s not the asshole Shotgun or Jack’s Sammy, he’s not sure who else to be.

Looking at Ben, the person who’s given him the rest of the rainbow, Sammy decides to at least try to be someone for him. Even if that person’s a fake.

“It… might go easier if I have someone helping me out,” Sammy suggests, going for casual, but Ben almost drops his mug again.

“Y-you don’t want me on the air, man,” Ben tells him. “I’m a _producer,_ not the talent,” He emphasizes, like Sammy’s forgotten.

“What you _are_ is a familiar presence in the town, not a new guy like me,” Sammy reasons. Then, after only a little hesitation, adds, “And you’re my SM. It could be… fun. We can get to know each other.”

Ben pinks a little but doesn’t argue this time. Sammy gently elbows him, the touchiest he’ll allow himself to be. “C’mon, at least for tonight to help me get settled,” Sammy bargains. “Destiny or whatever says we’ll get along, so odds are we’ll be good on air together.”

“… Alright, if you say so,” Ben relents. “But we really need to go!” He adds, getting a little frantic now. Sammy hopes he’s not this uptight about the schedule every night.

“Lead the way,” Sammy says, feeling something in him relax a little as they start to walk. He’ll be okay if he has someone to bounce off of, even if it’s not Jack.

He wonders what Jack would say in this moment. Probably something to lighten the mood…

“So… you’re the _little_ brother, right?”

_“Shut up.”_

********

 

Ben really likes Sammy, even if he is kind of super mysterious. 

Sure, the first couple days were… a lot, between what happened to Tim Jensen and adjusting to being able to see new colors _and_ trying to get to know his universe-approved best friend slash new coworker. He’s still not entirely sold on the “co-host” thing, although so far Sammy’s managed to drag him into it every single night. And… it hasn’t been that bad, really. Kind of good, even.

And they’ve also started going out for breakfast at Rose’s more mornings than not. They took Ben’s car the first time so he could show him the easiest way to get there, since his GPS definitely wasn’t going to do that. That turned into driving Sammy all around town, pointing out shops he frequents and all kinds of landmarks. He probably talked his ear off, but Sammy didn’t seem to care about that. Honestly, Sammy’s skepticism regarding the paranormal threw him the first time he learned of it, and apparently it applies to _everything_ in that category and not just ghosts. They’ll definitely have to work on that.

He figures that breakfast will be the simplest way to get to know Sammy without seeming like he’s butting into his space, which Ben gets the feeling Sammy would _not_ appreciate. He hadn’t noticed it at first, more than happy to fill Sammy in on what King Falls is like and answering questions about himself. But after more than a week, Ben realizes he basically knows _nothing_ about his SM, and that’s… a little discouraging.

Well, he supposes that’s not _entirely_ true. He knows Sammy usually wears his long hair up in a bun. He knows Sammy has a really nice laugh, though he’s only heard it once so far. He knows Sammy is really as professional and experienced as expected. He knows Sammy is kind, if the way he leaves the diner waitresses generous tips every time is an indication. He knows Sammy hasn’t shown the least sign of a temper, not even when some callers get really rude and argumentative.

What he _doesn’t_ know is where Sammy moved here from, or where he got his radio experience at, or his journalism degree, or even where he lives in town. He doesn’t _think_ Sammy has a brother, based on that one comment when they first met, but not if has any sisters or any other kind of family he’s close to. He doesn’t know if Sammy has any pets, or if he’s a dog or cat person. He doesn’t even have any idea why Sammy took this job and came to King Falls in the first place.

The most personal thing he knows about the man is that he’s not into dudes.

Then there’s the thing about him being weirdly calm when they first met. Sure, he looked a little spooked at first, but after that he seemed to have all the answers before Ben even thought to ask any questions.

He’d call all this suspicious on anyone else, but it’s his _Soulmate._ Or, one of them at least – that in and of itself is still a weird concept to grasp, to be honest. But the sad part is really that he doesn’t even know if Sammy _likes_ him. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t _hate_ Ben or anything; they get along well enough on air and at the diner. But between not telling him anything about himself and apparently not wanting to hang out at any other time of day, it doesn’t feel like Sammy actually _wants_ to be around him.

Ben spends a while wondering what it is he did or said that put Sammy off so much and can only come to one conclusion.

“Are you disappointed that I’m not a girl?” He blurts one night, right before the show.

Sammy blinks twice at him, somewhere between startled and confused. “Where’s this coming from, Ben?” He asks – a non-answer. He’s noticed that Sammy gives a lot of those, once Ben started listening for them.

“Just…” Ben tries to start, feeling his face warm and suddenly needing to look anywhere but at Sammy. “It’s just that, I was wondering if… maybe you’re like, mad at me? I guess that’s the right word? Like, because I’m the reason you don’t have a romantic SM. Because we’re incompatible that way and all?” He explains, growing surer by the minute that he shouldn’t have brought this up at all and is about to ruin whatever slim chance they still had at being real friends.

There’s silence for a few terrifying moments. “Ben, I’m not mad,” Sammy says gently, and Ben is hit with such a wave of relief that he slumps back in his seat.

“I _do_ like you,” He continues, and that’s another fear crossed off the list. “It’s just… it’s hard to explain,” Sammy says, and for just a moment Ben thinks he catches a glimpse of something on his face, but it’s gone before he can decipher it. Now Sammy just looks tired, but that’s nothing unusual. “It’s nothing to do with you, I swear. Anything that’s wrong is definitely on my end.”

“Are you really pulling the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech?” Ben can’t help but ask, a smile edging on his face. He sees Sammy’s lips twitch just a little and counts it as a win.

“I’m not meaning to,” Sammy mumbles.

“I know,” Ben responds, and waits until Sammy actually looks at him so he can see Ben’s smile. The sight makes Sammy visibly relax, which is what Ben was going for. He’s usually not good at reading a room or comforting people, but between the SM bond and studying Sammy so closely, he’s slowly becoming something of an expert on reading the man. He thinks. Hopes.

“And I get that I’m not like, the only person in your life and there might be other things going on that I don’t know about,” He adds, but has to look away when his phone chimes with a notification. It’s an email regarding next week’s guest slot – important, but not all that urgent. He _could_ multitask right now, but he won’t, because this is _much_ more important.

So, instead of responding immediately like he usually would, he raises his eyes again so he can look at Sammy head-on. Ben needs him to knows that he really means it. “I’m just saying… that I’m here for you. And if you ever want to talk, or just hang out for something besides breakfast, I’m down.”

Sammy looks at him for a long moment, mouth a tight line, before he responds. “Sure, Ben,” He says, and there’s a weird hitch in his voice that Ben doesn’t understand. Sammy clears his throat like he heard it too and stands abruptly. “I-I’m going to get some air real quick.”

“It better be quick – we’re on in ten!” Ben says, having to raise his voice since Sammy’s already walked out into the hall. He waits, listening to his quick but measured steps, then hears the creaky front door open and close.

“I… _think_ that went well. Or at least okay,” Ben says outloud, even though there’s no one around to hear it. Maybe the whole hosting thing is finally rubbing off on him, the whole ‘talk at the air until the air talks back’ thing that Sammy described once.

The result of that conversation is ultimately that Ben knows that Sammy doesn’t hate him, which is good. But all Ben’s actually learned is that there’s _something_ wrong, and not what it is or how he can help it, so he really hasn’t learned anything at all. He can still try to be there for him, though, and maybe they can still become friends despite whatever else is going on.

Maybe he can ask his mom for advice on what to do? He’s embarrassed by the thought as soon as he thinks it. But, in his defense, his mom gives good advice and has more experience with stuff like this.

While he waits for his SM’s return, he answers that email and does a few more systems checks. Sammy ends up returning to his chair with only a few minutes to spare, but that’s good enough for Ben. He thinks Sammy’s hue looks a little better, at least. Ben wonders if he’ll be able to tell better once he can actually see his skin color.

As soon as Sammy’s settled in with his headphones on, Ben speaks up. “So, have you picked a favorite color yet?” He asks, glancing between the equipment he’s adjusting and Sammy’s face. It’s a risk, but one Ben feels safe enough to try. At worst he’ll just get another non-answer, like _‘I haven’t picked yet’_ or _‘I don’t know, but why are we chit-chatting when we’re about to start?’_ It might say something about either him or Sammy that he can anticipate those so easily.

It’s because he’s not really expecting an answer at all that he’s so surprised when Sammy says “Yellow” after only a second of hesitation.

Ben tenses, but tries not to show his surprise and excitement too much. It thinks of it like trying to approach a deer; he’s got to be slow, steady, and calm. “I’ve heard it’s a happy color,” He says neutrally.

“It’s bright. And warm,” Sammy says, a little haltingly, like he has to force himself to share. He’s not looking at Ben, but instead somewhere along the far wall.

Ben feels like he’s being let in on a big secret; which, since it’s a concrete fact about Sammy’s life that he’s giving up willingly, it might as well be. If this doesn’t get any better, Ben might as well add ‘Sammy Stevens’ to the list of King Falls Cryptids.

When it doesn’t seem like Sammy has anything more to say, Ben offers his own answer. “I think mine’s green, like the trees. The forest is pretty incredible to look at. But… I don’t know, maybe that’ll change when I can actually see everything.”

At first, he’s not sure if Sammy is even listening. He’s still looking far away, like he can see through the walls and the dark and look at the trees Ben’s talking about. Or maybe he’s thinking of something else, like yellow – but who knows? Certainly not Ben.

“Maybe,” Sammy says, back to being mysterious again. But, hey, at least he _is_ listening.

The moment is suddenly broken by their own intro music. It’s time to start the show, but Ben can barely concentrate on that with his mind so full of excitement.

He can’t wait to see what yellow looks like. Then he’ll really know something about Sammy.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, part two! But what's this? _Ben_ has another Soulmate, too?! Who in the world could it be??
> 
> Y'all already know what's going on but I hope you're enjoying the read anyway.
> 
> Ben's SM meeting is up next and I have a couple of ideas after that, but feel free to drop a prompt for this 'verse in the comments! Are there any other couples you'd like to see? More platonic Sammy and Ben? How about some angsty situations, like Emily's abduction? Emily's rescue or Jack's rescue? Please let me know!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and you'll stick around for what's next.
> 
> You can find me on my podcast sideblog on tumblr [@podcastsmakemecry](https://podcastsmakemecry.tumblr.com/)


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